The Pretend Preacher
by writer writing
Summary: Kid Cole is no coward, but when he kills the leader of the Virginia City Gang, one of the biggest and most notorious gangs in the west, he needs a place to hide out until things cool down. When he is accidentally mistaken for a coming preacher, he accepts the role gladly. The only problem is he knows next to nothing about the Bible or being a pastor. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Kid Cole reached down and felt for a pulse in the man's neck. Nothing.

His reflexes had been faster than his aim this time. He couldn't say he altogether regretted killing him given that he'd been abusing a woman. The young lady, who was watching in horror, had a bleeding mouth and more than one bruise, some new and some old. She'd been near unconsciousness when he'd found them in an argument in one of the alleys. That's how he'd gotten involved in this scuffle to begin with.

Kid had tried to settle things peaceably. His intention had been only on getting the woman to safety but drawing his gun in warning had caused the man in question to draw a gun, and the stranger had vowed she was leaving only over his dead body. So things had escalated into a shooting that he had won like so many times before. Kid had warned him of who he was in hopes he'd put the gun away, but it hadn't phased him. He'd wanted this.

"You're a dead man walking," said a young man, who was crouching down next to him.

"What are you talking about?" Kid asked, finding no sense in what he was saying.

"Warren Tipton is only the leader of the Virginia City Gang and they control everything that happens in these parts. Every crooked gunfighter and gambler in the city and surrounding territory is in league with them, and they're all going to be after you, to settle the score."

"Well, it was still worth it. I rescued that young woman from his abuse. He could have killed her."

"You think she's grateful? That's his old lady."

With surprise, he discovered that she was indeed looking at him like he was the one who'd inflicted her wounds, who'd almost killed her, not like one should be looking at their rescuer.

"Ride away. Now. That's your best chance," he said. "You may be handy with a gun but even you can't shoot more than one man at a time. They will work together to kill you."

sss

Kid rode for 3 days straight, not even stopping to sleep for very long, but it still didn't feel far enough. How could he hide out? He attracted unwanted attention wherever he went. 'Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you' the proverb went, making it sound easy like trouble rarely came knocking of its own accord. Well, trouble troubled him all the time. They were old friends when he wished he could say they were strangers or mere acquaintances at least.

He slowed his horse down to a trot as he got ready to enter a town. Her neck was soaked in sweat and she neared the point of exhaustion. He took his hat off to mop off the sweat on his own neck, and he patted her side gently. "I know, girl. We could both use a rest. No reason we can't stop here for a drink."

He'd never passed through this place before, which was something of a surprise to him. Sometimes it felt like he'd been everywhere, but new little towns sprung up all the time.

Then again, it could have been any town in the west: stores, wooden plank sidewalks, saloon, dirt road, and church with a graveyard. Nothing was in the architecture to set it apart. So perhaps he had passed through and just didn't remember.

As he got down off his horse, a woman approached him. Her strides were long and purposeful, and she was smiling. He wondered for a minute if he knew her, but it was impossible. He would have remembered a pretty face like hers, and she had a Bible in one arm, definitely not the kind of woman he usually associated with or who associated with him.

"You must be the new preacher," she said, her smile seeming even brighter closer up. She had an almost unnatural radiance about her.

He stared at her unsure of what to say.

"You must be, dressed all in black like you are." She clasped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, me and my big mouth. Maybe you're just in mourning. Are you in mourning?"

The truth of it was he just preferred black, and it hid the dirt that came with traveling well. This, however, was a gift that had just been laid in his lap. The chance to assume someone else's identity, at least until the new preacher got here. "Uh, no ma'am. No, you had the right of it. I'm the new preacher."


	2. Chapter 2

"That's a relief," the woman said. "I figured you must be since I ain't never seen you in town before. Still, I sometimes say before I think. Reverend Carnell, I'm so happy to meet you. Our town's been praying for a preacher to shepherd the flock for some time now."

"The pleasure's all mine, Miss..." At least, he hoped she was a Miss. Her unhindered company might make hiding out not so bad after all.

"Forgive me. It's McKenzie, but just call me Sister Ruth, Preacher."

There was nothing sisterly about her to his way of thinking, but he smiled. "As long as you do me a favor and call me by my given name."

"Certainly, Brother Joshua. Huh," she said, her eyes landing on his belt.

"What?" he asked, his eyes going down to see what about him had caused that befuddled, almost displeased, look.

"I didn't peg you as the type to carry a gun."

"Oh, well, a man's got to eat and you never know what kind of wild beast you might run across on the trail." Though in his experience most of the wild beasts were of the two-legged variety rather than four-legged.

"True enough. I reckon you want to go get a look at the church." She looked at his horse, which only carried a small saddle bag, all the worldly goods he owned. "I would've thought you'd have more luggage than that."

"Well, the way I see it there's really very little a man needs. I doubt Jesus went around with a suitcase in tow."

She smiled. He'd apparently said the right thing. "I guess you're right about that. The circuit rider who used to come through about once every 6 weeks only carried what would fit in his saddle bag. Course he had a wife and children he went home to, so I suppose that wasn't all he owned, but as long as you got the Good Book there ain't much more worth owning, right?"

A preacher would own a Bible, wouldn't they? That was a problem he hadn't anticipated. Only one thing to do, come up with a convincing lie. "Funny thing about that. I set mine down on the rail in one of the towns I passed through and when I was done watering Lady here, it was gone. They must've had need of it, so I wasn't too upset, but I ain't got around to replacing it yet."

"So you've been without your Bible some time then. I couldn't imagine going even one day without reading the Word. Here, you can borrow mine. You'll have to order one at the General Store."

He took the Bible still warm from her touch and worn with frequent use. He really was touched, especially since she had just made it clear how dear she held it. "Yeah, I guess most folks already own Bibles. It wouldn't be a fast seller, would it? Thank you kindly. A preacher without a Bible is like a gunslinger without a gun, ain't it?"

She chuckled. "I reckon so."

She started walking toward the church. He took Lady by the reins and followed. "Is there water for me and my horse there?"

"Sure is. There's a creek out back behind the church. Perfect for baptizing and drinking. I tell you the congregation's going to be happy to see you. On the circuit rider's off Sundays, I've been doing the preaching cause I'm one of the few readers in town, and of those readers, the only one that's got enough gumption to be behind an altar, but they weren't happy in the least about having a woman preaching at them."

"You did the preaching?" He wasn't sure he'd ever heard of a lady preaching. That was rather unconventional even for the West.

"I ain't sore about giving up the job as much as I enjoyed it if that's what you're thinking. We needed male leadership. A woman can sow the seed and is supposed to, which is what I was doing, but a woman ought not to have spiritual authority over a man like being a pastor requires. That's just God's order. God made different but equal roles for men and women in the home and in the ministry."

He grunted noncommittally because he didn't really have an opinion, but she didn't seem to need to hear one.

"You probably didn't expect your first church to be way out here in the territories when you graduated from Oberlin, did you?"

"No, I can honestly say this is the last thing I ever expected to do."

"You don't sound like how I thought someone from Ohio sounded. You sound kind of southern."

"Oh? Well, I don't have much of an ear for accents. Could be I picked up a different sound from my parents or something."

She accepted his explanation again without much question, but then people didn't expect a preacher to lie, he supposed. So Reverend Joshua Carnell was from Ohio and he'd just graduated from a seminary school. If he just let this charming woman keep talking, she'd give him his whole life history without having to open his mouth. He must have had a lucky star shining on him.

The church was drab, a kinder word might have been simple. There was, however, a pretty bouquet of flowers at the foot of a plain wooden cross that rested inside. There was a door off to the side and she lead him there.

The room was as simple as the sanctuary, maybe simpler. There was an iron bedstead with a white quilt over the mattress. The quilt had been decorated with doves and vines, giving it a very preacherly look. Something told him Sister Ruth had crafted it and that the little vase of wildflowers made up of the same blue, white, pink, and yellow as was in the sanctuary only on a smaller scale, was her handiwork too. There was a bowl for water and hooks for hanging his clothes and that was the extent of it.

"It ain't much I know, but we knew you were a bachelor. I know if you were led to start a family, the men would help to build a vicarage. You know, you're older than I thought you'd be too. What'd you do before you became a preacher?"

If he was a guessing person, the real Joshua Carnell was in his 20s or 30s at the most. She probably hadn't been expecting somebody her own age, someone solidly in their 40s. As for what he did before finding himself a preacher, he brought in people for reward money. He lived and worked by the gun, but she wouldn't want to hear that. He had grown up on a farm, however. "I farmed. Like most people, I guess."

"An honorable occupation." She was the consummate lady apparently as she still stood in the doorway even though he'd gone in. She was obviously not willing to enter a bedroom alone with a man she wasn't married to. "You won't go hungry," she said as she pointed at a piece of paper. "That's a list of all the households in the congregation. We're taking turns feeding you, but if you ever want or need to have a meal with somebody else just let your host know. Then there are plenty of church functions with meals, of course."

Free room and board as he hid out. This kept getting better. "There's a lot of members then?" he asked as he scanned down the list.

"A sizable number and a good mix of people from all kinds of denominations: Presbyterians, Methodists, you name it. We came together because we knew we needed Christian fellowship. That's why we're so pleased your theology school was nondenominational. The Lord knew what he was doing when he called you out here."

She didn't have to worry about him being a respecter of denominations. He wouldn't know a Presbyterian from a hole in the ground.

"One things that puzzles me is how'd you know I was coming?" he asked, sniffing the blossoms.

"I didn't. I just wanted you to have something homey when you did come, in case I missed your arrival, and I put fresh flowers in the sanctuary on Saturdays, so it was no trouble."

He'd been in the process of straightening back up, but he froze halfway there as that comment hit him. "Tomorrow's Sunday, ain't it?"

"Yep, and I can't wait to hear what you got planned to preach," she said, shooting him a smile that might have warmed his insides if not for the cold panic her words had brought.

"Yeah, me neither," he muttered. He had to come up with a sermon in less than 24 hours. There was just one little problem with that. He'd never cracked open a Bible in his life or even attended a service for that matter.


	3. Chapter 3

Kid soon discovered that Sister Ruth marked in her book as he searched for a passage to preach from. He'd thought taking a pen to the pristine pages was something close to sacrilege, but she seemed to have no qualms about writing in it. Mostly she underlined certain passages, but every now and then there was a little writing in the margins, usually where to find another verse of a similar passage. He found it quite helpful as he was able to string enough verses to create a 15 minute sermon. He had no idea how long services were supposed to be, but that seemed reasonable if you factored in singing.

He wasn't surprised to see that the first to arrive was Sister Ruth.

"Hello," he said. "Church starts at 10:00, right?"

"I know it's only 9:30, but I saw you unlock the doors and I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help. I guess too, I'm the type that has to be here whenever the church doors are open," she said with a chuckle of self-humor.

He should have guessed that. It wasn't every person that went around carrying a Bible on a Saturday. "I think I'm set. Thank you for the use of your Bible. I don't know what I would've done about preaching without it."

"I was happy to do it though I'm sure you would've done just fine without it."

That would have been quite a sermon if he'd had to guess what was in the Bible. He might've started a whole new religion. "Well, thank you just the same."

She wasn't the only early arriver. Before he could say anything else, an elderly couple came in and Sister Ruth introduced them to him and then started a conversation with them. She was apparently an unofficial greeter of sorts. It was a fact he was glad of, since he didn't do well talking with people. Conversation made him uncomfortable as he never knew what to say and usually the people he talked to wanted to know nosy things like how many men he'd killed, which generally ended up irritating him. At least that wasn't anything he had to worry about for the time being.

The young family he'd had dinner with last night arrived. Sister Ruth had come back to show him the way to the house the previous night, and he'd chosen to have breakfast by himself this morning from his leftover food supplies.

By 9:45, he counted a dozen people. He wondered if this unofficial fellowship occurred every Sunday or if people were just curious to see the new preacher. Sister Ruth kept introducing him to people. He'd never remember all their names. He hoped they didn't expect him to.

He tugged at his collar as he made his way up to the pulpit when 10:00 came. It felt like he was being choked. "Good morning."

As he looked out from over the pulpit, 9 dozen pairs of eyes stared back at him. One of those was a pair of blue eyes he couldn't seem to get off his mind.

Should he make them rise like a judge? He'd been to court before. Was church like a court? Or did they stay seated the whole time? Was he supposed to pray? Did they sing first or last or all of the above. He literally felt beads of sweat start to ooze out of his pores. He was a sweater anyway, but this was the most nerve-racking situation he'd ever been in. He was starting to wonder if he didn't want to take his chances with the Virginia City Gang.

He opened the Bible to Matthew. That's where it had fallen open when he'd opened it last night and that's where he'd found some underlined verses that seemed straightforward enough. He read that passage now.

"Wherefore if thy hand or thy foot offend thee, cut them off, and cast _them_ from thee: it is better for thee to enter into life halt or maimed, rather than having two hands or two feet to be cast into everlasting fire. And if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast _it_ from thee: it is better for thee to enter into life with one eye, rather than having two eyes to be cast into hell fire."

His eyes kept coming back to hers. Everyone else seemed to be scrutinizing him, but her expression was friendly, eager even. She wanted to hear what he had to say. Somehow that gave him courage.

"When's the last time you saw a Christian hobbling around or blind? People care more for their bodies than their souls."

"Amen," a couple of the men and a lady echoed.

"It's no wonder Christians are called hypocrites. The Bible says one thing and people are doing another. The question you have to ask yourselves is do you want to go to hell?" A couple of people said no. "Then don't sin, brothers and sisters, do whatever it takes not to, and if you have to go to the extremes of losing part of your body, well, that's what it says."

He hesitated. Was he really telling people to gouge their eyes out or to cut a hand or foot off. "Of course, if you ask me, that's just bull."

He heard a chorus of gasps, especially among the ladies, and he realized his blunder. Preachers didn't cuss. At least not while they were giving the sermon anyway.

"Forgive me. I got a little carried away. I meant to say a gentleman cow or I guess nonsense would be the better word. Don't sin, but maiming yourself might be a little extreme." No amens this time. People were looking at him like he'd grown a second head. He read some more of the verses he'd found. This time without comment.

He enjoyed singing. The songs had never been hymns before, but everybody knew "Amazing Grace". Maybe that'd kind of draw them out of their shock. He retrieved his guitar out of his room, the only object he prized more than his gun.

"Amazing grace! How sweet thou art  
That saved a wench like me!  
I once was lost, but now am found;  
Was blind, but now I see."

Was it his imagination or were people still looking at him funny? Why weren't they singing with him? Not that he minded too much, but he thought that's what church people did.

"When we've been there ten thousand years,  
Bright shining as the sun,  
We've known last days to sing God's grace  
Than when we first begun."

The applause started off slow, but it did come. Then came silence. They were waiting on something. What?

He looked to Sister Ruth to see if she could help. She closed her eyes and bowed her head and he got the message. "Oh, Lord, let us have a good rest of the day." What else did people pray for? "Help us not to sin, and Lord, you know we want to. Well, I guess that about covers it, so...Amen."

Still waiting. He'd forgotten something else, but he didn't know what. Maybe it had been too short. After all, it wasn't even 10:30 yet. Or maybe they were just waiting on him to say church was over. "Uhh...church dismissed."

Sister Ruth gestured towards the back door. He was supposed to stand there apparently, so he rushed ahead of the leaving people.

Most just shook his hand, but he did get one compliment. "I liked how short and simple it was. That's the way to preach it, Reverend," the old man said, grinning. "Didn't even have time to fall asleep."

His wife flushed furiously and elbowed her husband none too gently. "Of course, a longer sermon might be nice too."

He eagerly took Sister Ruth's hand in the greeting line. Her hand fit so perfectly in his and he wondered if the contact had produced the cascade of butterflies in her that it had in him. She gave no sign of it. He was her preacher to her mind and she would no doubt be shocked by the temptations running through his head at the moment.

"That was interesting." Was that a compliment? He got the feeling she was being kind and that she really had a problem with his sermon, but he hadn't said anything that wasn't there in the Bible in black and white. "We should talk some time about it. Sooner rather than later."

He liked the sound of that even though he had a feeling it was purely to set him straight on whatever she thought was wrong with the sermon. Still, he wouldn't mind a lecture or advice coming from her. She'd said he could have lunch with whoever he wanted and he wanted to have it with her. "What do you say we-"

There was a clear and distinctive clearing of a throat. The voice belonged to a heavyset, older woman. She thrust her 30-something daughter forward. "This is Barbara. I'm Mrs. Pugh. You'll be eating with us today. We signed up second."

He looked at Barbara closely. She had a nose like a potato and a figure to match but mostly it was the way she and her mother were eyeing him like he was the last drumstick in a picnic basket that unsettled him and made him want to run the other way.

Sister Ruth had rescued him twice during the service. Perhaps, she'd rescue him again, so he looked to her for help since she hadn't yet walked off, but her eyes were laughing. She seemed to know what he was in for and thought it amusing. She did offer up one more comment with a chuckle. "And speaking of maiming, that had to be the best job of it I've ever heard when it came to 'Amazing Grace'."


	4. Chapter 4

"But, you've got a good voice, Brother Joshua," Sister Ruth continued. "Next time you might want to use one of them handy hymnals we have."

That explained a lot. He hadn't sang the right words. Of course there were hymnals; he didn't know why he hadn't thought of that. At least the information would keep next Sunday from being a catastrophe in the song department. If there was a next time. A lot could happen between now and then. The real preacher might arrive or one of the gang members might catch up with him.

"I'll see you Tuesday," she said, which must have been when her day to feed him was. He watched her leave to wherever she lived. It must have been close by if she'd seen him unlock the church doors. He would be counting down the hours until Tuesday.

Mrs. Pugh and Barbara moved out of the way to allow the line to continue, but he knew they hovered behind him, waiting to snatch him away to lunch.

The women actually took him by the elbows as soon as he'd shut the doors. They walked on either side of him as they escorted him to their abode, which was in walking distance. As they brought him to a charming little house and a charming little parlor, all he could think about was the poem that began, _"Will you walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly._

"I'll get the table set, you two young people get to know each other," Mrs, Pugh said in a silky voice that was just exactly the kind of voice he imagined the spider used on the fly.

Alone, he looked at Barbara. And Barbara looked at him. He'd never been the kind of man that mothers foisted their daughters on before. Most of the women he'd been around were saloon girls who knew how to start a conversation. And even those conversations never went too far because he wasn't interested in their services. This was a new experience to him. One he wasn't sure how to handle.

He didn't know what to say. He wasn't looking to court her, but he didn't want to seem rude either. So he asked a question that seemed like a question a pastor might ask. "What's your favorite book of the Bible?"

"I don't know."

"Me either," he said, and when she looked a him with a little surprise, he added, "I mean I like them all so much. How can I pick just one?"

She nodded, and there was more silence.

It was the longest 10 minutes of his life before Mrs. Pugh fluttered back in, light on her feet for a lady of her size. She seemed so giddy that she could have been walking on air.

The table was set prettily with fine china and flowers. His stomach growled at the sight of fried chicken, beans, and potatoes. Mrs. Pugh had somehow arranged the chairs to the small table so that he was shoved against Barbara, who smiled at him in a way that made him feel like prey again. He supposed he was being unfair. Neither woman had done anything so terrible except pushing him into an uncomfortable situation.

He had just put his spoon into the beans before he realized his mistake. They said grace, and as the preacher, they expected him to say it.

He quickly rectified his mistake. "Thank you, God, for this food. Amen." It was to the point. If they cared about the brevity of it, they didn't say. They picked up their spoons as well and attacked their food with gusto. With good reason, the food was delicious. "This is very good, Mrs. Pugh."

"Just leftovers from last night, and Barbara made all this herself. I just don't know what I'd do without her being a widow woman like I am."

She was doing her best to try and find out, Kid noticed.

"How do you like our fair town of Copper Cross?" Mrs. Pugh asked.

"Very nice. The people are very welcoming. I think I'm going to like it here."

"I couldn't help but notice you talking to Sister Ruth," Mrs. Pugh said.

He braced himself. Nothing nice ever followed a sentence started that way, especially when she no doubt considered her a rival to her daughter in his affections though he'd been in town for less than a day.

"I wouldn't spend too much time with her."

"Ma'am?" He'd been raised to be polite, to women especially, but he was having hard time keeping a polite tone though neither woman seemed to notice.

"Sister Ruth is, well, let's just say she's strange," Mrs. Pugh said. "Everyone knows it. She's the town's character."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, for one thing, she takes religion far too seriously."

Was she really telling a man, who she thought was a preacher, that you could take God too seriously?

She seemed to take his speechlessness for encouragement to continue. "She thinks she can heal people just by faith. She never goes anywhere without her Bible. I noticed she didn't have it today though. Can you imagine? Even I take my Bible to church. And she's constantly talking about God. And praying all the time. That can't be healthy. There is a life outside church."

"What it sounds like to me is you're trying to pick a good woman apart. If that's the worst she has to recommend herself, you don't know what a strange person is."

"Oh, it's more than that. We're a god-fearing family ourselves, you understand, but Barbara here has such a quiet, ladylike manner. Sister Ruth is, well, you'll see soon enough. Let's just say there's a reason she lives alone."

He stood up, and mother and daughter gaped at him like they couldn't understand why.

"Where are you going?" they both asked at the same time.

"I've suddenly lost my appetite," he said, putting the napkin that had been on his lap in the plate. "Don't expect I'll be hungry for supper either."


	5. Chapter 5

"You're early," Sister Ruth commented with a smile when Kid showed up 30 minutes ahead of schedule. Lunch would always be served at 12:00 and supper at 6:00 no matter what house he went to, an agreement among the townspeople to make it easy on him.

"You said you wanted to talk to me about the sermon. And I thought I'd see if you needed any help."

"That was sweet. Come on in. I don't mind a bit. I'd enjoy a conversation. Gets lonely living by yourself."

 _Or traveling around by yourself_ , he added silently.

He followed her to the back of her cabin where her stove and table was.

"If you could cut this Sally Lunn loaf and set the table, I'd be obliged. I just got to add a couple more things to this here vegetable soup. I hope you like it. I figured you've been eating a steady diet of chicken lately and might like something different."

"Sure thing and soup would be great," he said, picking up a knife. It was true about the chicken. Copper Cross was experiencing a decline in their bird population. There was a reason chicken was sometimes nicknamed the preacher's bird. "I ordered a Bible yesterday. Hopefully, you'll be getting yours back soon."

"Oh, I pray so."

"You can come by and read it anytime you want." Did that sound too forward? Probably. At least for a preacher. "I mean it's a church. The door's always open." Perhaps he should just change the subject. "So what'd you think about the sermon, besides it being interesting?"

"You were kind of nervous, weren't you?" She asked as she cut up softened potatoes that had been boiling on the back burner and added the chunks to the soup.

Nervousness would explain away a multitude of errors, and he couldn't exactly deny it. "More than a little. Public speaking's not something I enjoy."

"But you do it anyway. For the Lord. I admire that."

He smiled and she smiled back. She had a nice smile. It was genuine, not one of those fake ones people put on to be polite. It was mesmerizing. He didn't want to look away.

"You know what you said about it being...well, nonsense."

He colored. Had he offended her with his original word choice and calling a book she thought perfect nonsense? "Yeah, I remember."

"Those verses wasn't meant to be taken literally, you know. It was meant to make a point that if something's keeping you from the Kingdom, a friend or, well, just anything dear to you, it's better to separate from it than let it drag you elsewhere."

"Oh, well, they didn't tell me that in school. It's hard to know what's supposed to be taken literally and what's not."

"Don't I know it. That's why different denominations exist, but I find it helps to look at the context and the Bible as a whole. And pray for understanding. We're arrogant to think we can understand it apart from Him on our own. In fact, I'm sure there's plenty of verses that look like nonsense to the unsaved. There's even a verse about it."

Was that a barb at him? Did she suspect something? She continued about her work without making eye contact, so he didn't think so.

"There is something else I needed to tell you. You remember Jane Dunn and Martin Lowry?" she asked. Finished with the potato, she poured coffee for them both.

"To be honest, no," he said, taking the cup.

"That's alright. I've invited them over for supper. They want you to marry them."

The coffee that was in his mouth spewed back into his cup.

She looked at him with concern. "Too hot?"

"No, I've just never performed a wedding before." Was the couple going to be living in sin since he wasn't a real preacher? If he'd been on the road to hell before, he now had one foot in the flames by causing others to sin. He could have sworn he felt the temperature go up a few degrees.

"I married a couple last year that couldn't wait on the circuit rider."

She didn't say why they couldn't, but he could guess. "You're an ordained minister?"

"Goodness no, but I was the closest thing there was. No justice of the peace either, you see. It ain't uncommon to have common law marriages out here, and I believe God understands that. You ain't got a bona fide minister or legal authority what choice is there? The law recognize them the same as a legal marriage."

Well, if that was true maybe it'd be alright then. He felt a little better about doing the wedding but not much.

"I've been to plenty of weddings too, so I can help, and Jane and Martin might have their own ideas about how they want it to be."

He took a deep breath. He could do this. In for a penny, in for a pound. He wasn't able to get to know Ruth as much as he'd planned over lunch for worrying over the wedding, and he couldn't tell how her cooking was because the food tasted like sawdust in his mouth.

sss

"You look more nervous than the bride," Sister Ruth said just before the ceremony.

It was true. If anyone was going to faint, it would be him. He'd made it through one Sunday, but he was going onstage once more. How long could he keep the act up?

He'd met the young couple. They were nice kids, and he felt a little guilty about taking over the preacher's identity for the first time, but he saw nothing else he could do but keep with it. They wanted to be married before planting season, so they could get to work, thus the wedding was scheduled for that Saturday.

Sister Ruth was true to her word about helping him. She wrote down everything he needed to say, decorated the church with more flowers than usual, she played the piano for the wedding march, and suggested a verse he could read, which meant reading a verse was probably expected.

The bride wore a simple gray dress but her face was shining with loveliness and the groom looked happy enough to burst. He read the words just exactly as they were written. He said the vows first that they then repeated. It was turning out easier than he had expected.

"I'm going to read a verse from John 4:18 now that I hope they will always remember," Kid said. He flipped to it and read, 'For thou hast had five husbands; and he whom thou now hast is not thy husband." He stopped reading. Something told him this wasn't the right verse and he should have looked at it before now. He looked up to see the bride blushing, not for the usual reason, and the groom with his mouth hanging open. In fact, there were very few close-mouthed guests in the pews.

Then someone chuckled. It sounded like Sister Ruth's laugh and pretty soon nearly everyone was joining in except for a few unamused family members. It released a lot of the tension that had been created.

He looked over at the piano at Sister Ruth and she was holding up a finger. He turned to the table of contents and on further inspection found not only a John, but a 1 John, a 2 John, and a 3 John. There were 4 books bearing the name John. What kind of sense was that? He'd ignored her saying the 1st before John and assumed this was the first John.

"Sorry. Wrong book." He found 1 John 4:18 and read, "There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear." He sighed with relief. Much more fitting to a wedding, at least to a wedding where the bride hadn't been married 5 times before and was currently cohabiting. "I now pronounce you man and wife."

A sweet little peck and then it was thankfully over, except for the signing of the marriage certificate. Someone had taken the time to pen one since there was no printer in town.

He signed the phony name Joshua Carnell to paper for the first time and somehow that made it worse to see the lie in ink. But he just smiled at the newlyweds and passed them the pen.


	6. Chapter 6

Kid lay stretched out on the bed, playing his guitar and singing, which always helped him relax. He was so glad the wedding was over. He hoped the rest of the townspeople stayed single.

"O, the snow it melts the soonest when the wind begins to sing;  
The bee that flew when summer shined, in winter cannot sting;  
I've seen a woman's anger melt between the night and morn,  
And it's surely not a harder thing to tame a woman's scorn."

He was about to sing the next verse when he heard a noise. Someone was in the church. He'd forgotten to lock it, but what would someone be doing in the church on a Saturday evening? The wedding guests had gone home hours ago.

He had just set his guitar down and was reaching for his gun when Sister Ruth appeared in the doorway, broom in hand.

With blooms on her cheeks, she turned away. "I'm so sorry, Preacher. I didn't know you retired before sundown."

He smiled with relief and humor. "It's okay. I'm decent. Nothing but my bare feet. There are worse things I could have bared."

He thought he saw her lips twitch. "You say and sing some of the strangest things for a preacher, Brother Joshua."

How he wished she could say his real name. He supposed she'd heard his mildly suggestive lyrics. "Just the truth, Sister Ruth. The Good Lord appreciates honesty, don't He?"

"He does, but there's also such a thing as having control of one's tongue."

He grinned at her starchy manner. He had a feeling she had a bit of temper for he could see her knuckles whiten on the broom, but he guessed it wouldn't be very preacherly to bring it out. "I reckon you're right about that. What are you doing here, not that I'm not happy to see you?"

"I thought you knew I clean and decorate the church on Saturdays. I did some of the cleaning for the wedding, but there are still some things to be done."

"That's right. I'd forgotten."

"I didn't scare you, did I?"

"No. Can I ask you something personal? Why have you never married?"

"Why you heard something or the wedding just got you thinking?"

"Just curious is all."

"No reason. Just never felt led to, and I did have the chance once or twice in my life despite the gossip about me. What about you?"

"Oh, the same, I guess. Just ain't met a woman I wanted to marry."

"Well, as the preacher you won't have any trouble there. You know Barbara's a good old girl really. Just kind of under her momma's thumb."

"Well, I hope she finds somebody to marry then, but it won't be me." Not a good sign for him, her talking other women up to him, but what chance did he have with her at all? As soon as she found out he was a liar and a sinner, she wouldn't want anything to do with him anyway.

"I got to get to cleaning. We don't ever seem to have time to do any real talking, do we, what with the wedding and you being so busy getting used to things. You're my shepherd, and I feel like I hardly know you."

She didn't know the half of it, but he brightened. Was that an invitation? "And I hardly know you, but you've done so much for me. What do you say we have lunch tomorrow and fix that? I'll pack us a picnic. You don't have to do any cooking this time."

She smiled. "I'd like that," she said before going off to sweep.

sss

He made it through a second service. He picked a simpler sermon this time, or at least what he thought was a simpler sermon. He did the story of creation, but there were parts in the story that still confused him like why if there was only one God did He use the phrase "Let us" and what was the light if God didn't make the sun, moon, and stars until 3 days later. He could ask Sister Ruth when they went on that picnic, but it would seem dumb for a preacher to be the one asking the questions.

His eyes went often to Sister Ruth as he preached. He kept thinking more about the time they were going to be spending together than about the sermon. He had to keep reminding himself that she was as completely out of his reach as one of the stars that had been hung in the sky and that this picnic was only a nice way to pass the time. It wasn't going to lead to nothing serious, but, oh, how he wanted it to.

He was surprised to see Mrs. Pugh and her daughter back, but the reception afterwards was colder thankfully. He had a feeling they were there for appearance's sake, and if there'd been another church to run to, they would have.

Sister Ruth had a true compliment for him this time. "What a nice sermon that was. It's good to remember how it all came to be on such a beautiful summer day."

"Yeah, it is kind of beautiful, ain't it?" But he thought the most beautiful part of creation had to be her. He really believed then that mankind was made in the image of God. And though he'd never really doubted there was a God, he believed it even more looking at the color of blue in her sweet eyes.

His last parishioner was a woman near his own age though she looked much older with dark circles under her eyes and hair that looked only partially combed. She said in a whispery voice that he had to strain to hear, "Preacher, I need your help."

He wanted to say no. How many times was he going to be thwarted in his efforts to spend time with Sister Ruth? She was waiting on him. He looked at her and he could see the compassion she had for the woman. She would understand his having to cancel their picnic, in fact, she would expect nothing less. Reluctantly, he turned back to the woman in front of him. "How can I help you?"

"It's my husband. Me and my children are... it's really about him. He needs Jesus. I need you to come win my husband's soul for his sake. For my family's sake. Please."

He sighed. Anything but this. How was he supposed to lead a lost soul to the light when his own soul was adrift? It would be a case of the blind leading the blind if there ever was one. But he had to try.


	7. Chapter 7

"Josiah," the woman called out, whose name he'd found on the way over was Mrs. Finch.

It didn't take but a second to discover he wasn't in the house for it was a one-room cabin that the Finch family had outgrown 2 kids ago, and the somber-faced line behind them stood at five.

"I've wasted your time," Mrs. Finch said, looking guilty like it was her fault her husband wasn't at home.

"Oh, that's okay, ma'am. You couldn't have known."

As they circled around the cabin outside though, they found Josiah laying against the wood stack passed out drunk, and she looked more embarrassed than before. Even among drunkards, it was a sorry man who was stone-cold passed out before noon from drinking when he had a family to support and on a Sunday of all days. Winter wasn't all that far away either and the stack looked small. Kid couldn't help thinking how the kids were going to freeze if someone didn't goad this layabout into action.

"I'm so sorry, preacher," she apologized, taking the blame for her husband's action on her own shoulders once again.

He barely heard her because he was so deep in thought. What would get this man to clean up his act? That was easy because he knew what would motivate him. The threat of hellfire was enough to make any man stand up and take notice. If he couldn't bring heaven to the man, how could he bring hell instead?

"What would you say to giving your husband a preview of his future? We'll build a fire pit and then we'll light it when he's in the middle of it. I'll throw a cloak around myself, warn him of judgment, and he'll be a changed man when he sobers up or my name isn't Joshua." It wasn't the best idiom he could have used, but it made his point.

He half expected her to say no and wouldn't have blamed her if she did. It was a crazy plan, a reckless plan. However, Mrs. Finch showed the depths of her desperation by saying yes.

He spent most the afternoon digging a trench about a foot deep in the shape a circle. He took care to pick a dirt patch, so as not to risk igniting the grass. He filled the trench with the proper fuel: twigs, bark, some leaves, and even some of Mr. Finch's liquor bottles. He, Mrs. Finch, and the oldest boy filled bucket after bucket up with water, just in case the fire got out of hand.

When darkness fell, Kid drug the man, who was no lightweight, to the middle of the circle and using flint and steel, got the fire going in a matter of seconds. The trench worked beautifully as a blazing inferno rose up from the ditch that was enough to make any man sweat.

The flaming light and heat was more than adequate to waken Josiah from his drunken slumber and he cried, "Oh, Lord in heaven! I'm in hell!"

Kid deepened his voice which made it very deep indeed. "You're not dead. I just wanted to tell you that you're doing a fine job. I commend you. Don't change your ways, Josiah Finch. You are right to shun church and everything holy, to put yourself before your family's needs. You get used to the heat after a time."

Right on cue, the oldest boy, who'd had a flair for the dramatic that Kid had noticed and capitalized on, let out a scream that made a body's hair stand on end. He sounded as if he was in torment. Josiah's eyes were still bulging in terror.

"Pay that no mind," Kid continued. "You get used to that too. I look forward to seeing you."

Whether the heat and smoke was too much for him on such a warm night or whether the shock of finding himself in "hell" finally overcame him, he passed out once more.

He and Mrs. Finch started using the buckets to subdue the fire. Just as they got everything sufficiently soaked, Sister Ruth came running. Judging from the hat on her head with a braid slipping out, she'd probably been about to turn in for the night.

"I saw all the extra smoke and wanted to make sure everyone was alright." Her eyes widened with surprised at seeing him. "You've been here all day?" Then she saw the unusual trench and Josiah, whose skin was still a little red from the exposure to fire. "What on earth?"

Kid tried not to smile, but he was proud of his work. No real preacher could have done better. "He's had such a vivid dream of hell, I expect he'll awake a god-fearing man."

She seemed speechless. His smile grew a little smaller and more hesitant. Was she stunned in a good way or bad way. "You don't approve?"

"It was a lie. How can a good relationship be built on a lie?"

She was talking about a relationship between God and man, but his conscience prickled as she said out loud the thought he'd been thinking earlier. "Sometimes you have a good reason to lie. If it makes him start living right, if it gets him right with God, what difference does it make the reason why? If he wouldn't listen to his own wife, he wasn't going to listen to anything I had to say. I just got his attention is all. The rest is up to him."

Sister Ruth looked at Mrs. Finch, who was bent down near Josiah with more hope shining through her expression than had shone in a long while, maybe not since her wedding day.

"Well, it's unorthodox. I still don't approve of the dishonesty, but I reckon he did need a wake-up call. I just pray it works," Sister Ruth said. "Is this what they taught you in that school of yours?"

He chuckled. "No, ma'am, but I figured this way might be more effective."

She continued to look at him hard before finally smiling. "Well, you're about the most unusual preacher I ever did see. I guess ya'll could use some help getting him back in his bed or is a night spent outdoors part of his reclamation?"

"No, I reckon he should wake up in bed."

sss

Kid wondered all through the week about the Finch family. He saw the Finch kids walking to and from school and they seemed happier than usual. He would have liked to talk to Mrs. Finch, but he didn't figure he ought to go poking around there for a while, in case Mr. Finch recognized him as the demon from his dream.

However, the following Sunday came and Josiah Finch's own mother wouldn't have recognized him. With his shaven face, slicked up hair, and clean suit of clothes, it looked like he'd been coming to church all his life, and if Kid had to guess, Josiah wouldn't so much as allow his wife to use extract in her cooking in the future.

Josiah's presence set off a tittering through the church of surprise and speculation, but he shared a small smile with Mrs. Finch. It grew as he realized it was probably the first time in history a sinner had knowingly led a man to the Lord.


	8. Chapter 8

"We still ain't had that picnic yet," Kid said after shaking Sister Ruth's hand.

"The charity picnic to raise money for the orphanage over in Silver Creek is this Saturday. It's so they'll have enough fabric to make them all winter coats. Why don't you just bet on my basket?"

That sounded better than his getting together a picnic lunch that had consisted of a couple store-bought goods and one of his culinary offerings. "Works for me. Wait until I finish up here and I'll walk you home."

Josiah Finch was among the last to be out. His meaty hand pumped Kid's hand with the vigor of a man that had a new lease on life. "Preacher, I want to be baptized."

He should have seen it coming. People always wanted to be baptized after they were saved. "Oh, uh, now?" He knew less about what to say at a baptism than he had known about what to say at a wedding and wouldn't that look odd for a preacher?

"Naw, I was thinking this is something I'd like to do in front of the whole town. And I figure about everybody and their mother'll be at the picnic Saturday. Can you think of a better way to start it off?"

"No, I can't say that I can." Or at least, he could think of worse ways like the Virginia City Gang finally catching up with him or everyone discovering he wasn't really the preacher. He gave a weak smile and when the last parishioner was gone, he took that walk with Sister Ruth, short as it was. She lived much too close to the church.

"What was your baptism like?" he asked. He knew he could count on her to give him a steady stream of words that would help him work out how a baptism should go.

"My baptism? It was kind of like I was suspended in that moment under the water, like time stood still, and it made the decision I had made to follow Jesus so much more physical and real to my 7-year-old mind. I really felt like I'd been buried in Christ, and when I was raised up from the water, I knew I was beginning a very special journey, a new life."

What could she have done at 7 years old that she needed a "new" life? Told her parents a white lie? Snuck her dessert before supper? It was different for folks who'd been raised in church. They didn't know what real sin was. It was easy for them to be forgiven, to be saved.

Processing her answer, his lack of words caused her to ask him about his baptism.

"Oh, it was just as special-feeling, but then all baptisms are special."

"Amen," she said.

Lies upon lies. He felt as if he could use a dunk in the river just to wash away all this deceit that was piling up on him.

sss

That Saturday, he waded into the river, which was quite cold for such a warm day. Wouldn't a quick little sprinkling be just as good? He was sure there were churches that did that though he'd never seen a baptism of any kind in person. He hoped no one got saved in the winter, but he'd be long gone before he had to worry about that.

He could hear the sloshing behind him that told him Josiah was splashing in behind. He stopped when it got waist-level, deep enough to make the baptizing easy, or so he hoped.

There they were, dozens and dozens of eyes waiting, expecting him to do or say something only he didn't know what that thing was, a commonplace occurrence lately. "He comes to be buried with Christ, so that he can begin his new life." He must have said the right thing because they clapped.

He put a hand on the back of Josiah's neck and the other on the small of his back. The rocks, however, were slanted and slippery, and Josiah's years of drinking had made him quite the large man, downright corpulent. He had hoped the water would have made Josiah buoyant, but too many factors were against him and Kid lost his footing and went down under the murky, icy water right along with the baptizee.

Josiah recovered his balance first and pulled him up from the watery "grave." It was hard to tell who was resurrecting who. Kid almost wondered if this was this the Lord's idea of a joke, reminding him he should be baptized before he did any baptizing?

He waded back to dry land along with Josiah amid some chuckles, and Sister Ruth approached, carrying a quilt she'd meant for them to sit on no doubt, but she draped it around his shoulders instead.

"I bet you didn't know it was going to be a double baptism, did you?" she asked, looking as amused as everyone else.

"Wasn't the plan, no."

"I can't get over the fact that Josiah Finch just got baptized," she said, looking over at Josiah surrounded by his earthly family and his new spiritual brothers and sisters. They all looked happy but none happier than Josiah himself. The mishap hadn't dampened the joy of the act. "Your unorthodox method worked sure enough."

He tried to keep his teeth from clicking together as he involuntarily chattered, but the wind that would have been pleasant if he wasn't soaked, chilled him too much.

Sister Ruth didn't ask him if he wanted the quilt she carried, she just wrapped it around him. He'd gotten a quick glimpse of it, another of Sister Ruth's designs he was sure. This one was an ordinary patch quilt done in shades of deep browns, tans, and creams that ended up composing a cross in its center. "If I use this, we'll have to sit on the grass

"A little grass never hurt nobody," she said, risking grass stains by proving her statement and sitting where she stood.

"I guess all we need then is a picnic basket." Here was a woman he could spend the rest of his life with. She proved it in everything she said and did. He hadn't believed it was possible before now to fall in love on such short acquaintance. The only problem was she thought she was courting a preacher if she thought she was courting at all. She'd never fall for the real him.

But, oh, her smile was like sunshine piercing through the darkness that enshrouded him. It was a smile that spoke of a joy that had eluded him all his life, and it drew him like a bee to honey. "Mine's the basket with the blue-green ribbon."

He looked towards the table of baskets. There was only one basket with a blue-green ribbon, but he'd have known it was hers from the lace trim. She seemed to wear lace on almost everything she wore. He wasn't terribly surprised it'd be on her basket too.

It didn't take long for the auction to get under way, and he was not the auctioneer. It was nice to have someone else taking charge of an event. Sister Ruth's basket didn't come up until near the end.

He barely waited for the auctioneer to announce the contents: a roasted leg of mutton, potato salad, a fresh loaf, and a peach pie, not to mention a jar of lemonade. All he'd had in his basket last week was sandwiches, hardboiled eggs, and a few sugar cookies. He hadn't even thought of a drink. His stomach growled with hunger as he remembered he'd not eaten breakfast.

"10 cents," he called out.

"15 cents," another called.

"20 cents," called out yet another.

He couldn't believe he was up against 2 other bidders, but it was more a sign that she was a good cook than that she had a group of admirers, as he hadn't seen any men hanging around trying to vie for her attention. One of the men bidding was much too old for her and the other much too young, but he'd be darned if he was going to let them take off with the basket and therefore the accompanying woman.

Before the auction was over, he'd shelled out a whole dollar, enough for 4 good restaurant meals. It was really money he would need when he had to flee, but he just couldn't have stood anyone else winning the basket. And on a side note, he'd just clothed between 10 and 15 children. His good deeds were racking up in this preacher guise, which couldn't hurt if there was anyone keeping score.


	9. Chapter 9

"I didn't know you'd pay so much or I never would've suggested you bid on it," Sister Ruth apologized when he came back with the basket.

"It was worth it," he said, glad that although people were having picnics all around them, they were secluded enough to have a private conversation.

"You ain't even tasted it yet," she said with a grin.

"I wasn't talking about the basket," he returned with a grin of his own.

She cast her eyes down so prettily, any maiden would have been jealous. He sat down close to her and wondered if she minded their close proximity. The way she raised her eyes back up and looked at him, he thought probably not.

She got down to unpacking the basket and divvying out the food. He asked her if she wanted to say grace, pretending he was bestowing a great honor on her when he really just wasn't good at saying grace. She accepted, probably because she'd heard his meager prayer offering before. She had no trouble with coming up with words to say to God. He secretly timed her between slitted eyes as she prayed for forgiveness and the food and everything in between. He counted her prayer to be 3 minutes. Woman or not, this lady had been born to preach. Who prayed 3 minutes for a meal other than a preacher?

The 3 minutes were worth the wait though. It was no wonder the other men had been bidding for it. This cold meal was the best he'd ever had, and he told her so.

"There ain't nothing like the company of good friends to make it even better."

"Is that what we are?" he asked. "Friends?"

She looked at him with pleasant surprise. "Are you asking to court me?"

"That depends on if you'd say yes if I was."

She looked at all the other couples and families. "I don't know. I wouldn't want people to think I was spending time with you because I was out to be a pastor's wife, a notch on my spiritual belt."

He chuckled. "I didn't know there was such a thing."

"Oh, there ain't, but people'll think it. That I'm trying to earn favor with God."

Becoming a pastor's wife was the last thing she had to worry about. "Who cares what they think? I like you, Sister Ruth. And I want to get to know you better, not as pastor gets to know a member of his flock but as man gets to know a woman."

"Well, you know something? I like you too and that sounds mighty fine to me."

Just looking at her gave him a heady, out-of-control feeling. She was so innocent, naive almost, despite her age, and yet there was something sensual about her too. The way she watched him with such trust and even parted her lips. Did she know she was begging to be kissed? What would she think of a "preacher" who tried kissing her on the first outing they took?

Time seemed to slow as he drew even closer to her. Did time always slow when something wonderful was happening like it had for Ruth during her baptism?

He was so close he could hear her soft breathing and her sweet breath tickled his lips. He could almost taste the peaches on it though her lips hadn't yet touched his.

"Pastor Carnell?" said a little boy.

He almost felt like snapping at the boy for interrupting their almost kiss, but the tears in the child's eyes quickly erased that thought. "What's wrong?"

He was only 5 or so, but he looked completely and utterly brokenhearted. "Nana's dead. I need you to come preach at her funeral."

He wondered why this boy had been sent. Did he live alone with his grandmother? He stood up. "Of course, son." He looked to Ruth. "You understand, don't you?"

"Of course," she said, packing the leftovers up. "I'll come with ya'll if that's alright."

Both Kid and Michael agreed that it was.

He wasn't even thinking so much about having to preach a funeral but about seeing that the little boy was alright and not alone. He and Ruth followed the crying boy for about a mile to a little house, but Michael didn't take him into the house. He took him around back. He didn't know what to think until he saw a medium-sized sheepdog laying in a hole in the ground. White and gray fur muddied from the earth around it.

He was going to conduct a funeral for a dog? He didn't know whether to be relieved or to laugh.

"I'm sorry I thought you knew she was a dog," Ruth said, seeing his surprise. "Michael only has his parents, and since you had a day of meals with them, I figured you might have met her."

Members of his congregation. He should have known, he supposed, but he'd met so many people lately, the names and faces kind of blurred together.

"Ma and Pa said you don't do funerals for dogs," Michael said.

He remembered the homeless dog he'd snuck scraps to as a boy. He'd only gotten to know the animal for a few weeks, but they'd formed a bond nonetheless. He'd even named him Jack, but when his father had found out he was wasting precious resources, he'd shot the poor beast, and he'd been about as devastated as this boy was now. "I don't see why I couldn't. Everybody deserves a chance to say goodbye to their loved ones."

Funerals he could do as he'd been to one or two in his life, especially since this one was a dog's funeral. "I think we should start with you telling what you liked about Nana."

He snuck a look at Ruth to see what she thought, while the boy told about what a help she'd been around the farm and how she'd always licked his face and ran with him. Kid wanted to see if he was being sacrilegious or something, but she was only smiling tenderly.

He finished it up when the boy was done talking about Nana. "You were a good dog, Nana, and we give you to God now. We pray that God comforts the hearts of all those that will miss Nana. Amen."

"Amen," the boy said tearfully.

He wondered if he should sing Amazing Grace now, but remembering how he'd botched it up the last time he sang it, he was hesitant. Sister Ruth struck up the hymn for him though, and afterwards, they all threw a little bit of dirt on Nana.

Michael's parents had watched the proceedings from a distance, and they signaled they wanted to talk to him alone as he looked back at them.

"Thank you for that, Preacher," Michael's mother said. "It meant a lot to him. His grandpa died about a month ago and now his dog. He's having a hard time coping with their deaths. We've tried explaining death to him, but he's too little to understand. He doesn't understand where they've gone."

"Well, maybe I can try to explain it to him."

Sister Ruth was trying in vain to tempt Michael with the rest of the pie in the basket, but he'd lost his appetite for sweets. The mark of true sorrow for a boy his age.

"Let me see if I can talk to him," Kid said. "Michael, you want to come with me for a minute? I want to tell you a story, so you can know where your grandpa and Nana are."

The boy nodded, and he walked with Michael over to the nearby fence. Leaning up against one of the posts as they looked out over an expansive field, he alighted on an idea when he saw a brown caterpillar inching along in the tall grass. "Well, it's kind of like this, you see, there were these caterpillars, and there was this one extra-fuzzy caterpillar-"

"What was his name?"

"We'll call him...Charles. Well, old Charlie had about the best life a caterpillar can have. He chomped on juicy, green leaves all day and spent some great times with his friends and family, whom he loved very much, and he couldn't imagine things being better than they were. And then one day, Charlie was gone."

"Gone?" Michael echoed.

"Gone. He wasn't really gone, but he was in this cocoon, you know, and he couldn't talk to his friends and family to tell them what was happening to him or where he was, and they couldn't talk to him. They were terribly sad about Charlie, because they didn't really understand why he wasn't with them anymore. Old Charlie though transformed into new Charlie. He came out of that cocoon with the prettiest gossamer wings you ever did see, splashes of color all over them. You would hardly have known him."

"Did he go back and tell the caterpillars, so they wouldn't be so sad?"

"Well, that's the thing. You see this warm spring breeze came and lifted him up in the air, and he couldn't go back to being a caterpillar on the ground. He was too happy in this world of blue sky and sunshine. Oh, he thought about them. Maybe even wanted to visit with them, but he knew they would become butterflies themselves one day and then they would be together again to ride on the wind and have even happier times together."

"I'll really see Grandpa and Nana again one day?"

"I wouldn't be a preacher if I wasn't sure of it," he said. "You won't see them here again, but one day you'll go where they are."

The boy smiled at him and ran to tell his parents the caterpillar story after giving him a hug that made Kid feel his heart swell. Kids were normally afraid of him or only wanted to hear gun stories. This was different.

Sister Ruth joined him at the fence. "I heard your story, Joshua, and I think that one of the nicest stories I ever heard. Not everyone takes the time for children." She raised up on her toes to give him a quick kiss to the cheek, and he could have sworn his heart was about to burst.


	10. Chapter 10

Kid liked laying under the quilt Sister Ruth had made with her own two hands. He could almost imagine it was her keeping him warm instead of the covering. He could picture her lying under it in his mind's eye, hair spilled out over it so that it nearly entwined with the vines. The thought of what would be just under the cover set his heart racing with such exhilaration he could scarcely draw his breath.

A knocking on the church doors interrupted the thoughts that would have ended with him needing to preach a sermon to himself this Sunday, or at least it would have if he'd been a real preacher.

He got his gun first and then his clothes, more a force of habit than worry that someone sinister was at the door. He recognized the man as one of the members of the congregation.

"Hi, Pastor. It's my mother. She swears she's dying and that she needs to see a minister immediately."

Who could say no to a dying woman, but he didn't look forward to it at all as the man drove him to the house in his wagon. He didn't do well with sick people. He just didn't do well with people he supposed because he didn't know how to make light conversation, and he didn't like talking about himself.

The son let him go into the bedroom alone. The elderly woman didn't much look like she was dying. The sleeves of her nightdress billowed out over the covering and she sat up against the headboard. She didn't even look sick, but then sometimes it was hard to tell. "Do you perform lasts rites?" she asked him without so much as a hello.

Did he? He wouldn't know where to begin. Couldn't begin to bluff his way through this one. "No."

"Drat, didn't think so. Oh, well. Pull up a stool. At least I can confess to you. Bless me, father, for I have sinned. My last confession was 43 years ago-"

He made a nervous cough as he sat and wondered if he would be up the rest of the night.

"Didn't always have access to a priest," she explained, mistaking his cough for judgment. "And not much inclination to go, to be honest, but one starts thinking differently when you get to the end of life."

He made no comment, and she went on, "I've said some sharp and unkind things to people over the years. I haven't paid my tithes like I should. And I-"

He was squirming in his seat with discomfort, not that she'd hit the major ones yet, and he interrupted, "You don't have to confess your sins to me."

"That's probably true, and I do tell them to God, but it's good to tell another person too and get those things off your chest. Otherwise, sin just kind of sits there and festers."

He knew what she meant. Not that he'd ever been much for confessing to a higher power or another human being, but he knew a thing or two about festering.

"You married?" she asked.

He was surprised by the abrupt change in topics and wondered if this was leading into another confession. "No.

"I was. For 58 years. That's probably longer than you've been alive."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And you can't imagine the closeness that develops in those years. He was a part of me and life don't feel worth living anymore without him."

This was probably the part where he should have argued with her, but he didn't. A real preacher would have told her life was worth living and spouted off some kind of godly if cliché wisdom, but he said nothing. He could tell what she really wanted possibly from the beginning was just a listening ear.

"Tell me, what's heaven like?"

"I wouldn't know." She gave him such a stunned look it was almost comical. He supposed it was rather a shocking thing for a reverend to say. "I ain't been there you see."

She barked with laughter. "Well, at least you're honest. So few people are. They don't want to admit when they don't know the answers. Maybe the men of your ilk most of all."

Men like him lived by the gun, not the Good Book. "I'm the last one you'd want to go to for answers."

She mistook his partial confession as humility, and she beamed at him. "I like you. You remind me of my Alvin."

It was the highest praise she could have given him, comparing him to her late husband, and he thanked her for it and then asked her to tell him about him.

He'd said the right thing apparently because she told him everything, or it seemed that way. She talked of Alvin for at least an hour. Until she ended with his death. It had happened over 3 years ago, but it was plain to see it still grieved her. "I want nothing more than to be with him or have him back here. I should be over this by now. That's what my sister tells me."

"No, you shouldn't be. I can't imagine how you must feel and neither can anyone else. They can't tell you how to feel. It's not their place."

She smiled at him this time. She had desperately needed to hear that it was okay to feel sadness. "I might just come see you Sunday. If I live until Sunday that is."

"I'd like that."

sss

The son had offered to take him back, but he'd wanted to walk back despite the lateness of the hour to clear his head. He had comforted Mrs. Feaganes or Nessa as she has insisted upon being called, but he had deceived her. He was halfway tempted to go back and do some confessing of his own. Maybe he would just confess to everyone this Sunday. End this whole charade.

"Kid Cole."

It was spoken as plain as day. It had been weeks since he'd last heard his name spoken out loud, and it was rather jarring. He'd been about to pass the saloon doors, but instead, he moved in closer until he was practically hugging the side of the building to better hear.

"Kid Cole?"

"The marshal in Virginia City is looking for him. Killed a man in cold blood. Right in front of his wife."

They'd caught up with him at last.

"Watch out," the informant went on. "He's dangerous. He liked to kill me and no doubt he'll kill again."

He'd been nowhere near next to killing anyone else. Hadn't even wanted to kill the man he did kill, but the comment got the dramatic gasps and murmurings it had sought.

"The only new man in town is the preacher. We ain't seen anyone else pass through," said another.

"Well, if you do see him, the reward is 500 dollars."

The chatter increased in volume. It was a princely sum. More than a year's wages and then some. He was halfway tempted to turn himself in for an amount like that.

He quickly crossed behind the saloon to the safety of the church. He would have to hide behind his clerical collar a while longer as people were going to be combing the countryside for him.


	11. Chapter 11

Festering, that was what this sin of his was doing. Thanks to Nessa he had a name for it now, and it was eating him alive inside because he was fooling good people. And Sister Ruth was at the top of the list. It was worse that he was doing it to her because he was courting her too. Fortunately, he knew just what to do to get rid of this anxiety.

It was the last place he should go in given his disguise and the chance someone in there might recognize him, but the siren call of the liquor it held was too strong to ignore. It beckoned for him, and he answered the call.

"You here for some communion wine, Preacher?" the bartender asked, sending the saloon crowd into a round of raucous laughter. "Cause we don't serve that here."

He smiled good-naturedly. "No, whiskey."

He got the bottle and started to pop the cork, but Kid corrected him right away. "Not a glass, I want the bottle."

"For medicinal purposes then?"

"You could say that," he answered as he paid the man and left the saloon.

It was probably going to be all around the church tomorrow that the pastor drank whiskey, but he really didn't care.

He smelled it, and the smell was like a sickeningly sweet rubbing alcohol. A sip of it proved to taste worse than it smelled. It tasted like he was drinking kerosene, or at least it was how he'd guess kerosene would taste. It was definitely the cheap stuff, but it would do the job just as well. Maybe better.

sss

She was talking before he saw her.

"Joshua, I've been thinking, I don't think it'd be appropriate for me to continue coming here alo-"

No reason to wonder why she'd left the sentence unfinished. He was sitting on the floor instead of the bed with an empty bottle beside him. A hand through his hair told him it was laying every which way but straight and a look at his shirt reminded him of how he'd tried to take it off but had too much trouble with the buttons and so had buttoned back the two or three he'd managed less than successfully.

And just in case she still wondered at the state of his sobriety, he erased all doubt from her mind when he shouted, "I love you, Ruth." Probably not how a woman wanted to hear those words for the first time.

The truth was he'd forgotten again that she came to the church on Saturdays, which was strange, because she was almost all he could think about these days. If he'd remembered, he would have waited until after she left to do his drinking.

She looked gorgeous. More beautiful than usual, in fact. His blurred vision gave her an ethereal glow. "You're more beautiful than the last time I saw you."

"I'm not sure that's a compliment. Everyone looks a little better through a drunken person's eyes, I'd imagine."

He laughed. She was funny. He'd never realized how funny before. Then again maybe it was the alcohol making him laugh so hard.

And then just as suddenly as the laughter, the remorse came. "I shouldn't be here," he said, looking at the church around him.

"I don't know about that, but you shouldn't be drinking," she said sternly as she helped him up off the floor. She'd entered his bedroom, and he wondered if she even realized it.

Her hands were so small in his; they were also warm and gentle. He didn't want to let go, and she wasn't pulling away. He closed his eyes, soaking in her nearness. She must have been doing some baking earlier because she smelled like vanilla. It was driving him wild, she was driving him wild. He opened his eyes again, and there she stood, so near that stealing a kiss would have been easy and closing the little space between them even easier. And he ached to do it and not just because he was intoxicated. "You'd run right now if you knew what was good for you. I'm not a good man."

She didn't seem frightened as she looked up at him. She should have been. His chest heaved in barely controlled restraint and the backs of his knees were touching the mattress.

"You're too hard on yourself," she said, her voice so soft it was if it were caressing him. It was hypnotic, and he struggled to listen to what she was actually saying. "Everyone's done things they're not proud of. It's the choices you make now that matter. And you've made some pretty good ones lately, barring this one, of course."

He released her hands and sat down on the bed. One of those things he wasn't proud of wouldn't be giving into his baser desires at the expense of a godly woman. Giving into that kind of temptation before they were married would destroy her, especially when she found out he wasn't the man she thought he was. "What do you think of a preacher who drinks?"

"I think he's just as human as the rest of us and that he only has to give his mistakes over to God."

It may have been the booze talking, but he knew he had to tell her everything. "Ruth, I'm not really-"

"Shh," she said before he could finish. She lightly pushed back on his shoulder until he was laying down and then she covered him with the quilt. "Morning comes quicker than you think. You need to sleep this off before church."

He shut his eyes. It was probably for the best. He was feeling overwhelmingly tired, especially since his head had hit the pillows. She laid a ghost of a kiss on his forehead, and it lingered there long after she'd gone.


	12. Chapter 12

Kid had taken to letting the Bible fall open randomly. It was all Greek to him. Even the stories that should have been simple ended up being heard to preach on. This week the topic was temptation. He wondered if Sister Ruth was secretly chuckling at the irony of the sermon choice, but then she wasn't the type.

He was thankful for the curtains that covered the windows or the sun would have been hitting him in the eyes full force. He normally opened them, but he left them closed today.

But Sister Ruth stood up and fixed that just as things got underway. "The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined," she quoted as she did it. Like it was some prearranged point to his sermon.

He hadn't known Sister Ruth had a mean streak. It was possible she didn't know the after effects of drinking, but he didn't think so.

He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Sister Ruth. Always eager to serve."

She smiled. "Happy to be of help, Brother Joshua."

He held the Bible up in front of his face in an attempt to shield himself from the light as he read.

"Submit yourselves therefore to God," he said in between the throbbing in his head. "Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw nigh to God, and He will draw nigh to you." It made it sound so simple to resist temptation and get close to God, but 66 books said it wasn't simple to follow Him or there wouldn't be 66 books. "Cleanse your hands, ye sinners; and purify your hearts, ye double minded. Be afflicted, and mourn, and weep: let your laughter be turned to mourning, and your joy to heaviness." Christians were such a cheerful people. His tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth. He should have drunk more water. "Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He shall lift you up."

He preached his best sermon yet, he thought, despite the handicap of a hangover. He could speak on temptation. The world was fraught with it, and he seemed to experience it more than most.

"So run, brothers and sisters. Run towards God and away from temptation. I believe we'll forgo the singing this Sunday." The congregation always made a joyful noise, but it wasn't always a pretty noise. Too many of its members were tone-deaf.

"On a glorious morning like this, Brother Joshua? Now's the time to sing. I'll lead the singing if you're not up to it."

And before he could protest, Sister Ruth was up at the front, leading a song. And she added clapping, which was like nails being hammered into his brain.

"Who's that yonder dressed in black?  
Way in the middle of the air.  
It must be the children runnin' back:  
Way in the middle of the air."

Dressed in black? He had a feeling she hadn't picked that song by accident. A communication to him rather than to God?

"And the big wheel run by Faith, good Lord;  
And the little wheel run by the Grace of God;  
In the wheel in the wheel in the wheel, good Lord;  
Way in the middle of the air,  
Way in the middle of the air."

He'd heard that song before. He'd liked the tune to it and had even wiled away the time sometimes with a verse or two on his guitar, not thinking much about the words.

He shook hands afterward as per usual and wondered if anyone noticed his bloodshot eyes. The frowns before Josiah and his wife's smiles proved that at least two did.

Sister Ruth waited until everyone was gone and out of range of hearing before she came out.

"How you feeling?" she asked.

"You have a lot of nerve pretending to care after that little performance."

"I do care."

"Then you have a funny way of showing it. I'd hate to see what you do when you don't care."

"There are consequences for every action taken, big and small. We shouldn't have to hide in the dark and skip singing to the Lord because you made the unwise mistake of drinking to deal with your problems."

"It is better to dwell in the wilderness, than with a contentious and an angry woman." He'd come across that little gem while hunting for a sermon, and it came to his mouth now. If she wanted to throw verses at him like she had upon opening the curtains, he could throw them right back.

"I'm not angry. I'm disappointed."

"But you do want to argue. No woman who didn't would do the things you just did. And I think I'm starting to understand why you never married."

If she wasn't angry before, she was angry now. The red in her face and the way her chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breathing proved it. "I do not enjoy arguing. Especially with a bullheaded man."

"If I'm bullheaded then you're my queen."

"Lord, give me patience," she said, throwing an arm up as if expecting that patience to suddenly rain down. And she did visibly calm. "Joshua, I'm just worried about you. You need to pray. God can help you with your demons. Liquor will only make them grow."

That somehow irritated him more then if she'd shot another barb at him. "Isn't one preacher enough in this church?" He slammed the door in her face.

sss

The remorse came later when his head had stopped hurting. The door slamming had been childish. He genuinely liked her. Was coming to love her as he'd admitted in his drunkenness. He wouldn't blame her a bit if she refused to talk to him anymore.

She opened the door of her house and wore a pleasant expression despite his worries.

"I just wanted to say I was sorry for shutting the door that way and getting so mad. I said some pretty hurtful things," he began.

"No, I was being ornery and not very charitable. I don't always know when to let a thing go. It does come from a place of concern though."

"I know that."

"Would you like to come in?" she asked, moving back so he could enter.

Her sleeves were rolled up and her wrists looked wet. He'd probably interrupted her from washing dishes. "If you're sure you've the time?"

"Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." He regretted coming in though as soon as the door had shut.

"So why were you drinking so heavy?"

"What's wrong with drinking? Didn't Jesus turn water into wine?" he shot back.

"Sweet wine, not strong drink. And don't tell me that a man of the cloth wouldn't preach against drunkenness."

"I'm not most preachers."

She laughed as they took a seat in the living room. "Ain't that the truth?"

"I'm sorry what I said about you never being married. I ain't never been married before either, and I reckon this is why. I'm hard to get along with."

"Oh, I expect every human being's hard to get along with some of the time."

The urge to kiss her was more than he could bear in that moment. Only the curtain was wide open and she lived in town, so he maintained the proper distance from her.

"I was engaged once," she said, taking him by surprise. "For years to a good friend, but there was no spark, I guess, and then I found out he got married. Didn't even tell me. It was a secret elopement, and I found out about it at church."

"How terrible for you."

"I wanted to be mad, but the trouble was I liked her. She was my friend. They both were, and I couldn't get too upset over it because of that."

"Some friends, not to tell you. He was a plumb fool if you ask me."

"He wasn't. I'm not sure we would've ever gotten married. Either he or I always had a good excuse about why to put it off though if either one of us had pushed, we probably would have. They were in love and just better suited for each other. Anyhow, he was my last chance at getting married in my small community. I was at that age where the pickings were slim, and there hadn't been many pickings to begin with, so I started corresponding with a man, who'd posted an advertisement seeking a bride. He talked the west up. Heaven on earth but for the lack of a local church and a woman to share it with. His descriptions made me fall in love with the land."

"And him too?"

"I thought so. He wanted a wife of godly character. I wanted a husband of godly character. We had the qualities we were looking for in a spouse in each other."

"So what happened?"

"I came, expecting to get married, but by the time I arrived, he'd done found himself another gal. He offered to send me back home, but it weren't no easy journey, and I was here. I didn't stay in the same town as them. But that's when I stopped thinking about finding a man and my faith grew because of it. I figured if the good Lord intended on me getting married, he'd send one my way. I let him compensate me for the trip though, which got me this little house. Been taking in a little sewing and laundry here and there and doing some biblical healing for the folks open to it."

"I'm glad you told me all that. I want to know everything there is to know about you. That must've been hard for you to talk about."

"Would you believe it ain't so hard? Rejected twice but not rejected by the Lord. There's a plan in everything He does."

"Curious why I came out west?"

"I know why you came out west, remember? To preach."

"Oh, of course."

"But I'd love to hear what made you want to preach."

His mouth went dry, and he wet his lips as he struggled for words. "Well, I guess better be going. Just wanted you to know I didn't mean nothing I said."

"You enjoy changing the subject, don't you?" He froze on his way to the door. "You still ain't never told me what was so bad that made you want to drink like a fish."

"I like to drink. Sometimes a body doesn't need to have a reason." He left without even turning around.

He did have a reason. Guilt. It'd always nipped at his conscience, which was a little out of the ordinary considering his dad had raised him and never seemed to experience a moment of guilt about anything. No church upbringing to account for it. Hadn't even stepped foot in a church until recently. But it was there all the same, and falling into a gun fighting lifestyle had caused that guilt to grow exponentially. Drinking and running from town to town kept him from thinking about it too much.

Pray. That's what Sister Ruth had said to do, and he admitted, it was something he'd never tried before. He supposed it couldn't hurt. As long as he was playing at being Joshua Carnell, he might as well do as the reverend would do.

 _"I don't know if You'd listen to me. I'm lower than the dirt. My sins too great. How can you fold your hands in prayer with blood on them? They say you're a loving God, a forgiving God, but I don't know. Maybe it's too late for some people. For me. But I'm tired of the killing, of the lying, and the running. I want to change if only to be good enough for Sister Ruth."_ What was he doing? If God was listening, He was angry with him masquerading as a preacher and as a teacher of things he knew nothing about.

 _"Sometimes I wonder if maybe I ought to let myself get caught."_

 **A/N: The word wine referred to both fermented and unfermented drink up until the mid 19th century. Putting sweet or new in front of it made it more clear that it was being referred to as grape juice, but grape juice was often referred to as simply wine.**


	13. Chapter 13

What was it about man that made him grasp for life? After all, everyone was destined for the grave, why did men fight so hard against the inevitable? Yet, here he was in this field practicing his draw, knowing it would most likely result in the taking of more lives, but he couldn't afford to get even a hair slower or it would mean the end of his own.

He had come so close to telling Sister Ruth his secret in his drunken state, but he just couldn't do it in the sober light of day. And he'd come to the conclusion that he was putting the good folks of Copper Cross in danger, the kindly elderly woman who saw her husband in him and the woman he was coming to love more than his own life. Nessa had come to church and Sister Ruth would have to be at death's door before she missed a Sunday. What if they came for him one Sunday at the church and innocent people got hurt?

The only logical thing to do was leave before his imagining became a reality. He'd just have to put more miles between him and the gang and leave his heart behind. He'd leave a letter, confessing to everything, so they wouldn't think their preacher disappeared.

"I didn't expect to see you here. You planning on having a showdown in church?" As was becoming a habit, he heard her before he saw her.

He turned to face her. "I think the choir has it in for me."

She grinned. "That's odd since we don't have a choir."

"That's how good they are at hiding. I'll have to be ready."

After the chuckling, he asked, "Do you know how to shoot?"

"Not really, no," she answered with an expression somewhere between a frown and a smile.

"A woman living alone should know how to fire a gun."

"I don't need a gun to protect me. The Lord will send His angels in my defense."

"What if the angels don't move fast enough? God didn't use an angel to bring down that giant."

"Goliath?"

"Yes. Couldn't think of his name, but that's the one."

"And that only proves my point. A boy with only a sling and some stones defeated a trained warrior over 9 feet because God was with him."

"But he had a weapon. Meet today's sling and stone," he said, raising his gun higher.

She sighed in defeat and rolled her sleeves up. "I reckon there ain't no harm in learning a new skill. Don't mean I'll use it. What do I do first?"

He handed her the pistol. "Spread your legs apart and bend your knees a little." He didn't realize how unpreacherly that sounded till he'd said it. A gentleman never referred to a lady's limbs, but she didn't seen to mind. She followed his instructions. Or at least, he assumed she did, since all he could see was the rustle of her skirt.

He moved in behind her and his hands hovered near her hands before coming down on them. He argued with himself that it was only to show her how to hold the weapon, but he knew it was as good an excuse as any to touch her.

He could see and feel the goose bumps on her forearms. Was it nervousness from holding a gun or from his nearness?

"Just a light squeeze," he instructed.

She jumped a little at the sound of the firing. She would have let the pistol jump from her hands, not expecting the recoil, if he hadn't been helping her hold it.

"Well, I fired one. That make you happy?"

"You need a little more practice before I'll be happy." But he sheathed his gun. It was a shame he wouldn't be around to see that she got that practice.

She turned around and he knew that leaving would only hurt worse for the both of them if he closed that little bit of distance that remained, but he lost the ability to think with her that near. He should have ran. A real preacher wouldn't have kissed her. Wouldn't have taken advantage of a girl he wasn't engaged to alone out in nature, but he was only a pretend preacher.

Their lips moved together in such a sweet yet needy way that it made him more drunk than he'd ever been. Blood roared in his ears, his vision faded to black, and he felt positively giddy.

He didn't want to break away from her, but he did. For her sake. She couldn't afford to have her reputation tarnished because he couldn't restrain himself. And the gossips would talk at even a hint of scandal as innocent as a kiss could be. "I don't know what got into me. Please, forgive me."

"Don't stop," she pleaded, her voice raw with passion.

The mirrored desire was more temptation than he could stand up against, and he kissed her again. This was heaven and hell rolled into a kiss. Torture because he knew that this was all that it could be and bliss because he'd never connected with a person like this before. He could never be satisfied with the lips of another now.

Standing got a little shaky and through the course of the kiss, they sunk to their knees, the long grass providing a soft cushion.

They were in such sync with each other, the tilting of their heads was effortless and every touch and move seemed to be anticipated as if there was already some unbreakable bond between them.

"What is going on here?"

They broke apart immediately. He recognized that voice and looked up to see Mrs. Pugh and Barbara. The mother and daughter pair had saw more than they probably expected to see on their little nature walk. Though both he and Ruth were fully dressed maybe even overdressed considering the temperature, the women looked positively shell-shocked.

"You, Jezebel!" Mrs. Pugh exclaimed at Sister Ruth. "I knew you were too pious to be real."

"Nothing happened but a little kiss," Kid said, jumping to her defense immediately.

"I doubt that," Mrs. Pugh said with a scoff. "A wanton woman and a promiscuous pastor. You better believe I'll be bringing this up in front of the church."


	14. Chapter 14

"Pastor Joshua Carnell and Sister Ruth were caught by me and my daughter engaging in hankey-panky," Mrs. Pugh said before the assembled church members.

Kid rolled his eyes. She made a simple kiss sound so dirty. He looked over at Sister Ruth, who was beside him on the front pew. She was holding up better than he would have expected during this trial of sorts. But then what did they have to be ashamed of? He'd wager most courting couples had stolen a little kiss before marriage.

Hopefully, the church members would remember that. He looked out over the sea of faces. Most were men, but there were a few women here and there in attendance. More women might have meant more sympathy. Judging from the faces, hardly any seemed condemning but neither did they look compassionate. They were a blank slate of neutrality.

"A kiss to the forehead or cheek could be excused," Mrs. Pugh continued, "but it was a kiss to the lips."

They were blowing it all out of proportion. But what did he expect when even holding hands with a lady was considered improper unless they were walking over a rough patch of ground?

"Good gracious," Sister Ruth exclaimed. "You make it sound like we committed some grave sin. At worst, the kiss was in poor judgment."

"I didn't want to have to share this detail, but they were on their knees," Mrs. Pugh added as if revealing that sordid bit was taking everything out of her. "And listen to her. She's almost using profanity."

"Almost means didn't," Kid said with disgust. "Good gracious is a perfectly acceptable term. Now you're just trying to invent things."

"But I didn't invent your tryst in an open field," Mrs. Pugh said, hatred burning in her eyes. She'd probably been looking to enact her revenge for the failed matchmaking all along, watching them with eagle eyes. He wouldn't have been surprised to discover that she'd followed Sister Ruth into the woods. "Do we want this as an example for our young people to follow?"

One of the elders took charge. "Thank you, Mrs. Pugh, we hear your concern and will certainly take all you've said into consideration. Sister Ruth, Brother Joshua, do either of you have an explanation for your conduct?"

Sister Ruth beat him to it, not that he knew what to say to get out of this mess if he did. He didn't care for himself. He was planning on leaving anyway, but the church was Sister Ruth's life. The church was her family. He didn't know what the punishment would be if found guilty, but it could be nothing good.

"Kissing is in the Bible," she argued. "The early church greeted and showed love to their brothers and sisters in Christ by kissing all the time."

Kid held back a smile. He doubted they'd kissed each other like he and Ruth had kissed.

"Even Judas kissed our Lord Jesus Christ. And, yes, in an act of betrayal, but the kissing itself wasn't wrong. Kisses are expressions of natural feelings."

There was the low murmurings that came from folks discussing it with their neighbor. It was looking as if the outcome might be positive.

"I will withdraw my support if she isn't severely disciplined," Mrs. Pugh spoke out, apparently realizing the same thing. As the wealthiest woman in town and one of the church's top tithers, they all understood her to be talking about financial support.

"The only right thing to do is take a church vote," the elder said. "If you believe she must be disciplined, show your yay by a show of hands." He spent some seconds counting hands. "And if you believe she should be given a warning only, show your nay by a show of hands." He counted hands again.

It was very nearly a tie, but more had voted yay than nay. The elders went into his living space to quietly discuss the form of discipline they would give. He didn't care if it was improper or if Mrs. Pugh, who no doubt was watching them, saw it, he reached over and squeezed her hand in an unspoken declaration of support and affection. She rewarded him with a smile, distracted and worried but genuine.

The elder leader spoke after the group of five had come back out. He addressed Sister Ruth. "I'm afraid that until you admit your wrong and publicly apologize, Ruth McKensie, you are hitherto banned from attending worship and participating in fellowship with this church. This is done with love, Ruth, in hopes that you will one day see the error of your ways and be restored to our fold."

"I accept your judgment, but I won't apologize for something that wasn't wrong. I didn't mean to offend anyone, and if I did, I am sorry. But let's not pretend this ain't about the money," Sister Ruth said.

The elder ignored her and looked at Kid next. "We realize this is your first time as a minister and that you might not be aware yet of the higher standards we call our pastors to. We're willing to overlook it entirely now that your...ahem, temptation has been removed."

Anger bubbled in him at the double standard. "You couldn't pay me to preach here if you offered me all the gold in the territory."

He was beginning to see why his father had never gone to church. Christians preached one thing and lived another. Sitting in their pews and pretending to better than everybody while they hung the good ones like Sister Ruth out to dry. The church was full of hypocrites, liars, and backbiters just to name a few, and if this was religion, he wanted no part of it.

"Of course, we understand if you take some time to think about-" the elder began.

"I don't need to think about it," he interrupted in a gruff tone.

"Well, then there's no more business here, but we'll hold off on accepting your resignation until you've had time to reconsider."

The nerve of these people, the elder's condescension and Mrs. Pugh's smug victory. It was all enough to make him physically ill.

He waited until everyone was gone to pack his things. They surprisingly left him alone in the church with Sister Ruth. They must have figured they respected the church too much to do anything so unholy as to kiss in a place of worship.

Sister Ruth looked distressed for the first time when she saw his bag and guitar. "You shouldn't leave because of me. They're mostly good people here. Don't let it drive you away."

"I was thinking about leaving anyway. I don't know that I was made for this kind of life."

"Don't say that. They only upheld social convention in there, not God's law. There ain't one verse that speaks against kissing in the whole Bible. Marital relations outside of marriage, yes. I still believe there wasn't anything we did that was wrong, and you know where I'm going to be this Sunday? In a field worshipping the Lord. He don't reside only in a building."

The corners of his lips turned upward. "In our field?"

She returned his smile.

"Won't that upset Mrs. Pugh? Hmm, a church with no walls or roof. That sounds like my kind of church. Maybe I'll join you out there."

"Where are you going to sleep if you give up your place here?" she argued.

He knew where he'd like to sleep. "Out under the stars. Wouldn't be the first time. It's more restful than you'd expect." As he walked for the door with her, he wondered if his semi-promise to join her in the field would be one he kept. He had the perfect excuse to leave now, but he couldn't abandon her to this turmoil, turmoil he'd created by kissing her.

"Well, ain't you clever?"

He didn't recognize the man that said it, the man that was laying in wait for them as soon as they stepped outside, but it was the same voice from the saloon, the one who'd told the others about the reward. Apparently, he hadn't trusted their answer, or he'd just thought he'd ask the preacher if he'd met anyone on his travel into town. It didn't matter now.

He could feel Sister Ruth's questioning glance, but he couldn't bring himself to meet her in the eyes.

There was a distinctive click of the hammer. "Start walking towards that wagon. The both of you. And if you even think of drawing your gun, Kid, the lady here dies. In fact, throw your gun down now."

The man had harrowed in on his weakness. It was too big a risk to try and outshoot him when he already had his gun drawn and pointed at them. He wasn't willing to play roulette with Sister Ruth's life. He had no choice but to comply, and he threw his gun out of his holster into the grass.


	15. Chapter 15

Ruth was praying. She wasn't asking him questions like why the man had called him Kid, although most likely it hadn't sounded like a real name to her, or the bigger question of why they'd been kidnapped. He didn't even think she'd tried to struggle with her bonds. No, she had simply been praying as they were carted along in the back of a covered wagon to some unknown place. It was as if she expected God was going to use invisible hands to release her.

The only reason he was still alive was because there was a price on his head. He was surprised they hadn't issued a dead or alive statement behind that reward money. Maybe someone else wanted the pleasure of killing him. And he didn't want to think about it, but they wouldn't hesitate to kill Sister Ruth just for being a witness to his being captured.

When she finally opened her eyes, he asked her, "You really believe He's listening to you?"

"I know He is. You don't believe the Lord'll help us?"

"I believe the good Lord helps those that helps themselves. And I've come up with a plan."

"Oh?"

They'd been speaking in whispers, but he lowered his voice even more. "I have a knife blade sewn on the inside of my belt."

He'd felt the need with his lifestyle to have a backup weapon. He wouldn't say he'd anticipated this recent turn of events, but there was no such thing as being over prepared. If he'd shocked her, she didn't show it, but then it was hardly the most shocking development recently, and she'd handled it all with a strange calm. Not that she didn't look a little worried and fearful, but she wasn't hysterical about it like many women would have been. "How you going to get to it?"

"I can't get to it because my hands are tied behind me, but if I shift up against you, you should be able to unbuckle my belt and find it." He inched his body closer, which was hard going with his hands and feet tied, but he managed it.

She didn't move right away. Her wrists were tightly bound, but her fingers were free enough. She must have been waiting for him to say he was ready. "Okay."

She still didn't jump to action and then he realized what it probably was. She was worried she might miss his buckle altogether. "I'm right behind you. Reach out your fingers and you'll hit metal."

"Oh, mercy," she muttered, finally doing it. It was quite the predicament, but with a little work and great awkwardness, she got the job done.

"Okay. Now feel along the inside towards the right, and you'll know when you find the blade. Just be careful and don't cut yourself."

"Lord have mercy," she muttered again as she felt along the leather, slowly pulling his belt out.

"I wonder what the United Brethren of Copper Cross would say if they knew you'd just removed a man's belt," he teased, feeling the need to lighten the mood.

"I'd be kicked out of every church in America. Mrs. Pugh would to see to that," she said with wry humor.

Kid had to cough to hide his laughter before their captor wondered why they were enjoying being kidnapped.

The blade cut through the seams that held it on and then it slowly sliced through her ropes as she took care not to bring the sharp metal against her skin.

She untied the rope around her feet. Her next order of business was to buckle his belt back. She was reaching to undo his bonds when the wagon came to an abrupt stop.

"Hide," he whispered urgently, and she ducked into the corner back against the canvas wall.

They couldn't have reached their destination so quickly. He'd probably heard the whispering and decided to see what they were up to. Their kidnapper moved the curtain back and saw Ruth's cut ropes right away. "Where is she?"

"No good woman had a knife on her and escaped almost as soon as we took off. Rolled out of the wagon before it got going good. Left me here to rot."

Wanting to see she was gone for himself or just wanting to check his bonds, he came in to investigate further. Kid waited until the perfect moment to shoot out his legs, and he kicked him hard in the face, sending him flying out of the wagon.

Ruth, with a better vantage point, looked out to where he'd fallen. "Out cold."

"Good. Run before he comes to."

"And leave you?" she said, already working on the tight knots.

"Maybe I'm not worth saving."

She stopped her work briefly to look him in the eye. "And yet, while you were still a sinner, Christ died for you."

Of course, she thought everyone was worth saving thanks to her biblical worldview. She wouldn't leave him to die if he was the most reprehensible human being on the planet. He thought it admirable if foolish.

Freed, he took the man's gun and place it in the empty holster of his loose belt. Not as light or handsome as his own revolver, but it would shoot if need be. Then they ran.

They didn't stop running until Copper Cross came into view. Fortunately, they hadn't gotten all that far away from it though the run left them breathless.

But not so breathless to keep Sister Ruth from asking questions. "You feel like telling me why that man was after you?"

Apparently, she wasn't giving him a total pass after all. "It's a long story."

"I've found myself with some time on my hands lately since I can't spend it at the church. And I believe you have too."

He couldn't help smiling, though his problems were far from over. Likely, their kidnapper would round up more men. He probably wouldn't be so foolhardy as to try again alone with no weapon.

He should have told her everything then, but he couldn't bear the disappointment that would fill her eyes. He was beginning to believe she would forgive him even if she wouldn't want to continue their courtship because that's the kind of person she was. "I owe you an explanation, I know."

She didn't get the chance to ask for that explanation because they were surprised by the crowd gathered in front of the church.

Before they could ask what they were doing there, the elder spoke, "We called another emergency member's meeting and took another vote. The majority wants you to stay on as our pastor."

"And that means you want Sister Ruth to stay to?" Kid asked.

"We realized we've got no business getting involved in your courtship. As long as you've committed no outright sin, well, we don't want to lose our new preacher."

"Well, good," Kid said, "because she's going to be the preacher's wife if I have anything to say about it."

There were gasps all over the place, the most audible one came from right beside him. He looked over at her sheepishly, but Ruth was regarding him with a kind of surprised pleasure. She didn't say yes, but she didn't say no.

He didn't know why he'd semi-proposed in front of everybody like that when he couldn't marry her. Not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't do it as Joshua Carnell. And he knew she wouldn't want to marry Kid Cole. But at least it would help her save face in front of her stuck-up church people. Kissing a fiancé was a lot less of a crime in their eyes than kissing a beau.

In the excitement of the news, hardly anyone noticed the young man join them. He was short and dressed in black with a Bible in hand.

"Who are you?" Nessa asked, bringing the crowd to a hush and focusing all attention on the newcomer.

"I'm Reverend Joshua Carnell."


	16. Chapter 16

Kid had known this had to happen eventually, unless the preacher had met with some unfortunate accident, which he had never wished for and would never. He hadn't even planned to take up preaching again, despite the offer. He just wished he'd managed to slip away before this happened.

"No, you're not, he is," Michael argued, pointing at Kid and looking back at his parents in expectation that they would back him up.

"No," Kid admitted to his youngest and staunchest defender. "He is who he says he is. I'm the imposter."

"I knew he wasn't a real pastor," Mrs. Pugh yelled out triumphantly though it had been clear she had known nothing of the kind. "No preacher of any caliber would choose an old spinster over my Barbara."

What did she think Barbara was at 30 something, but he would never be so rude as to say it. Spinster and old maid were words meant to be derogatory, but if a man could choose to be single, he didn't see why a woman couldn't choose to be single. Sister Ruth was making singleness work for her. Though he believed she could do so much more than serve this little church that didn't seem to fully appreciate her dedication.

He looked out over the gathered crowd. Anger marred the faces of most and on the others was disappointment and betrayal. They had all once looked at him with trust and respect as he had limped through his preaching with maybe a bit of bewilderment thrown in and that made these new reactions sting.

There was one face he couldn't bring himself to look at. Whether it was anger or disappointment, it would crush him to see it and so he didn't turn in her direction.

"I believed in you," Nessa said, her aged voice cracking with emotion. "I called this second meeting. I wouldn't let them do this to you. And now..."

Now it was for nothing. Wasted effort. "I know I let you down. I let all of you down. And I'm sorry for that."

"So who are you?" Josiah asked, the portly man no longer friendly.

"I'd like to know that myself," Reverend Carnell said, already sounding like a shepherd defending his flock.

"Don't matter, does it?" he asked. "I'm a drifter, and I'll be drifting on out of here. I'm only taking what I rode into town with," he added, in case they thought he was some kind of thief, which they probably did.

He retrieved his gun, horse, bag, and guitar in the blink of an eye. He swung up on Lady, still taking care that he didn't look in Sister Ruth's direction. She hadn't said anything. She'd probably been stunned into speechlessness.

He made a split-second decision. He wasn't going to head further east. He was going to head back the way he came. If he saved his own hide, the people of Virginia City Gang would eventually plague the folks of Copper Cross in some way. The corruption would one day extend into this small town. Evil unchecked always did spread like a vicious disease. He might die facing them down alone, but at least his life would mean something if he gunned down even a few of those scoundrels.

"Wait!" she cried. Sister Ruth was running after him.

He had just reached the end of the dirt road into town before it became wild terrain again, but he slowed Lady to a complete stop. He couldn't ignore her. He could never do that, but he still couldn't bear to look back at her. Lady snickered impatiently, wanting to keep riding. She'd been cooped up in town too long. She was eager to ride to the next town and usually he was too. "I wouldn't have thought you'd want to see me ever again."

"Why would you think a thing like that? Here we are practically engaged and I don't even know your real name," she said it lightly in obvious hopes of teasing the answer out.

It gave him the courage to look back and see the kindness she was wearing. He figured if anybody had the right to know his real name, she did. "Kid. Kid Cole."

"Ah," she said, remembering what their captor had called him, "and you got that man after you."

"I've got men after me," he corrected. "Including a crooked marshal. I've got a whole gang on my tail. I'm not a good man."

"I don't know why you keep saying that. Yes, you are. Lost maybe, but I've seen the good in you. I feel it, and the Lord-"

"Why aren't you angry like everybody else?" he quietly interrupted. "I deceived you."

She gave him a gentle smile. "You didn't deceive me. I've known you weren't the real Joshua Carnell for some time now."


	17. Chapter 17

"You've known the whole time I wasn't Joshua Carnell?" Kid asked in disbelief, getting down off his horse.

Sister Ruth chuckled. "Not the whole time. I figured it out early on though. It was a lot of little things really like when you pronounced Genesis, jean-sis, or when you prayed for Satan."

"I thought Christians prayed for sinners, and he seems to me to be about the biggest sinner there is."

"He's a fallen angel, not a sinner. He made a choice; he's not trapped in sin because of the weakness of his flesh."

Like him, she was probably thinking. He still couldn't believe that she had known and not said anything. "If you knew it, why didn't you call me out on it? Why didn't you tell the others?"

"The way I see it, the good Lord must have wanted you here for me to mistake you as the coming preacher. I knew the truth would come out sooner or later, and you looked hungry."

"I've never been hungry. I've always been able to live off the land or scrape together what I need."

"Spiritually hungry, I mean, and where better to be fed than in a church? You were hearing and preaching the Word of God whether you wanted to or not and that didn't seem so wrong to me."

He'd known she was smart. Of course, she would have had to put two and two together or think he came from the sorriest seminary in the world. Now that he thought about it, it was a wonder more people hadn't discovered the truth. "Well, it was wrong. I was just protecting myself from getting caught. I should have corrected you the moment you thought I was him."

"Kid-" she started to say. It filled him with warmth to hear his name spoken on her lips that he cut off her words with a kiss. He wasn't unwelcome if her sigh of contentment and tender look were to be believed when he pulled away.

"You'll only be hurt. Go now. They'll forgive you for falling for me since they fell for my lies themselves." He got back up on Lady.

She recognized all too well that he was riding in the direction they'd come from, riding back towards the danger. "Are you out of your mind? You'll die for sure if you go that way."

He ignored her as he adjusted his feet in the stirrups, but he couldn't ignore what she said next. "I love you, you hardheaded mule of a man."

He turned around in complete astonishment that a "holy" woman like her could love a man like him, a man who was not a preacher or even a Christian, but just a plain sinner, and if she could then maybe God could...

"At least take the men who are willing to go with you. Even out the odds a little," she pleaded.

"You saw the way they reacted. They wouldn't follow me to the back door if the church were on fire much less ride with me into danger."

"But you ain't even tried. You don't give people enough credit."

And she gave them too much. But he did it anyway. He wouldn't leave her always wondering what would have happened if he'd just asked for help.

The church people were still standing around talking, but then why wouldn't they be? This was no doubt the most exciting thing to happen in Copper Cross since its founding. He didn't even get off his horse. He watched as she went to talk to the rightful preacher, and he heard snippets of their conversation on the wind though they moved off from the crowd.

"I've heard you've fallen prey to his charms and honeyed lies," Reverend Carnell said.

"I ain't done nothing of the sort. I saw through him better than most, and I love him. He's getting ready to face down some mean men and boys. He needs help."

"I'm not sure he should have help, and I'm sure whatever mess he's gotten himself into was of his own making."

"Give him a chance to explain. If you ain't willing to give people another chance, you didn't learn a thing in seminary. You could know the Bible backwards and forwards but without love, you're just a clanging gong."

He only took a moment to think about it before realizing she was right. "Listen," Reverend Carnell called out. "Let's hear what the man has to say. There's no harm in that."

This was turning out to be the third church meeting of the day. Folks were starting to get more than a little grumpy about it, not that he blamed them.

"I killed my prize hen for him," one old woman said angrily.

"He made fools of us!" shouted one of the men.

"But he helped my husband get saved, " Mrs. Finch said quietly, so softly that everyone stopped their clamoring to listen. "If not for him, my children and I might not have made it another year, and we certainly would have been separated eternally from a man we love."

"And he helped our son understand death in a beautiful way," spoke up Michael's mother.

It got quiet. Kid supposed they were waiting for him to say something, so he told them about the man he'd unwillingly killed, the man who'd been beating his wife to death and leading a wicked gang. A gang who not only operated on greed but wasn't afraid to commit murder without asking questions, backing it up with example as he told them how Sister Ruth had almost been killed. "I'm not asking you to face this gang for my sake but so that more innocent people aren't hurt. If there's one thing pretending to be a preacher taught me," he said, looking to his primary teacher with love, "it's that He's willing to forgive the vilest sinner to the greatest of saints."

"Even me?" Michael asked as if he were somehow less than the vilest sinner.

Kid wished he'd been smart enough to think on his own state of sin at so youthful an age and to be moved at the wonder that God accepted every human being that came to him. "Yes, son, even you," he answered.

They were all moved by Michael's humility and every able-bodied man went for his horse and gun.


	18. Chapter 18

In Virginia City, two rows of men, some on horses and some on foot, stood opposite each other, waiting to draw their guns. It felt more like battle than a shootout. The gang had gotten wind of their coming and gotten their own men together, meeting them on the same street where it had all began.

Kid spoke for his party. "We don't want any more people shot. All we ask is that the Virginia City Gang surrenders and that ya'll put down your guns down. Violence and greed is no way to live. "

A new leader had been elected to replace the shot one, and he answered for the gang, "We must repay Calvin's death."

"Vengeance is mine saith the Lord," Reverend Carnell, at his right side, quoted.

The gang wasn't moved by the verse and guns were drawn, but the firing was over almost as soon as it had started. Kid winged the two opposite him and someone in the group had gotten two more. It caused most of the gang to scatter who hadn't been too keen on fighting the legendary Kid Cole to begin with. The gunfight had lasted a total of 10 seconds, perhaps a new record, and no one had died though four gang members would need a doctor.

"It ain't ya'll's fight!" yelled the frustrated leader. "We only want Kid Cole."

"It is our fight," Reverend Carnell said. "When good men stand by and let evil befall the community they live in, they might as well be doing the evil themselves."

Kid smiled. Copper Creek had gotten themselves a good pastor, one who actually practiced what he preached.

Perhaps inspired by the mini-sermon or more likely the brief but accurate firing, the gang who was left threw their guns to the ground.

The townspeople were creeping out of their hiding spots and talking. He heard his name more than once. He'd hardly done all the firing and shooting, but it didn't matter. They'd attribute every shot to him and the legend of Kid Cole would grow, a blessing and a curse.

The townspeople drawing courage from the shootout elected a new marshal on the spot and a number of temporary deputies. With any luck, this would spell the end of the Virginia City Gang as the members paid for their crimes behind bars.

It had played out like a scene out of a novel, Kid thought, so perfect it was almost unreal. Sister Ruth would say it was because God's hand had been in it, and he wasn't sure that she wasn't right.

Ruth must have been watching the road because she ran out to meet them on their return to Copper Cross. She brought him into a hug as he came down off his horse, not caring they had an audience. "I haven't stopped praying for you since you left."

He returned her warm embrace. "I believe it. And you know something else? I just believe. In all of it," he said, gesturing towards the church. "I know I'm not the man you thought I was, and you probably want to take some time to get to know the real me, but I love you, and I want you to be my wife-"

"I want to be your wife," she interrupted.

He could hardly believe his luck, his blessing, he mentally corrected himself for he didn't believe in luck anymore.

sss

"You ever thought we'd be baptizing the preacher?" Nessa asked, having found humor in the situation after getting over the initial shock.

Sister Ruth laughed with her. "No, but I reckon anybody's got a right to be baptized."

They looked on as Kid and Reverend Carnell waded their way out into the water.

Kid was eyeing the preacher. The water stood midway up the man's chest due to his shortness. He was almost twice the man's size. This was another disaster in the making though they hadn't gone as far into the middle as he had with Josiah.

"You seem nervous," the reverend commented.

"I've had a bad experience baptizing in this river."

"Don't worry. I'm short, but I'm wiry. Have a little faith."

"I do, or I wouldn't be out here, but I'm not sure I have faith in the strength of your arms. I want to be caught away one day, but in the air, not the river."

He chuckled. "The water's shallow. We'll be fine." Getting serious, he asked in a loud enough voice for those on the bank to hear, "Do you freely confess that you are a sinner and repent of your sins? Do you place your trust in Christ as your savior and repent of your sins?"

It was the most important question he'd ever been asked, and answering it brought him indescribable joy. "Yes, I do."

"In accordance to our Lord's teachings and by His command, I baptize you my Christian brother in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit."

He was fully immersed in the river with no mishap, and he smiled as Ruth stood waiting on dry land with the cross quilt.

After everyone had welcomed him into the spiritual family and they were alone together, he asked her, "Would you have married me if I hadn't turned to God?" Though it was a moot point now, he wondered. She'd let him kiss her, knowing he hadn't given himself over to God.

"I love you with all my heart, but no, you'll always be second in my life."

Though it didn't sound terribly romantic, he understood who came first in her life, especially now that He came first in his life too. Coming second to God was nothing to be dismayed about.

"But I knew you would," she told him. "The Lord has given me the gift of knowing when a heart is ready for Him, and you were ready."

sss

It was ironic that the man he had masqueraded as was now marrying them, but there they stood in the church he'd temporarily called home, thankful to not be the one behind the altar and even more thankful for his bride.

They had decided to use Bible verses as their vows, Ruth's idea. He'd found his ironically enough in Ruth, and he read from his new Bible. "Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me."

Teary-eyed and reading from her Bible, she said, "Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up. Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone? And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and a threefold cord is not quickly broken."

He smiled lovingly and saw love pouring from her own eyes and smile. A threefold cord said it perfectly: him, Ruth, and God. There were stronger together, and he looked forward to laboring with her and especially the keeping her warm part.

He'd gotten her a ring and slipped it on now. "With this ring I thee wed, and all my worldly goods I thee endow. In sickness and in health, in poverty or in wealth, till death do us part."

He was surprised at the number of people there to see their fake preacher's wedding or maybe it was Sister Ruth they'd come to support. Either way, it was clear they'd let bygones be bygones when it came to the kiss and the identity stealing. He even saw Jane and Martin who had the most reason to be angry, but Reverend Carnell had assured them they were legally married before God and man.

After the wedding, they went back to Sister Ruth's cabin. She had sold the house and small plot of land to Reverend Carnell, who to Mrs. Pugh's satisfaction was courting Barbara. He hoped it worked out for Barbra's sake, and there was the fact that it had made Mrs. Pugh slightly more bearable but only slightly.

Ruth seemed to be soaking in the details of the walls and furniture. It was there last night here. He had talked her into going on the road with a revival that would allow her to share God and her talent for healing. She hadn't needed much convincing. She said she'd felt the Lord calling her to something, she had just hadn't known what until he came along.

"If you want to stay in Copper Cross, it's not too late to change your mind," he said, sliding his arms around her from behind.

She leaned back into him. "No, I ain't going to change my mind. I'll miss some of the people here, but I'll enjoy making new friends." She spun around still locked in his embrace. "And most of all, I'll enjoy being with you."

He kissed her, finding it better than any of their other kisses because it was done with total abandon and no guilt but with just as much passion. His hands roved in places that he hadn't hitherto had the opportunity or right to rove.

He broke apart to see if she were enjoying the exploration as much as he was. Her eyes were beckoning him to continue, emboldening him to fully express his love for her.

sss

He hadn't known what he was missing in not pursuing matrimony as his wife lay nestled in his arms. Of course, being married wouldn't be appealing with anyone but her.

He had never thought that impersonating a preacher would lead to happiness that touched his very soul and to the love of his life. He was so overwhelmed with love for her, he ached.

"You ever think you'll take up preaching again? They were rough in places from inexperience, but I really enjoyed your sermons."

He grinned. He didn't know if she was teasing him or not. She seemed honest enough though. "I'll sing for your revivals, but from now on, I plan to leave the preaching solely to you."

The End


End file.
